


Dissipated

by quailbutt



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, heronstairs, wem, will/jem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quailbutt/pseuds/quailbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A repartee on parabatai, brotherhood, and that third thing in the room neither Jem nor Will really want to talk about. Then  again, it isn't as if talking has ever resolved much. </p><p>--</p><p>Set at some point after Clockwork Prince, in a very, very slight au, one in which Will was cogniscient and fully aware when Magnus tried to eat his face off in front of Camille.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissipated

**Author's Note:**

> I scribbled this on a sheet of looseleaf at two in the morning, and I woke up not remembering much of the writing process. Forgive this.

"Magnus Bane mentioned you." The silence was a heavy, unusual one--it was early in the morning or rather late at night, and exhaustion had loosened Will's tongue.   
He and Jem were sitting on the Institute's roof, just the two of them, like they'd used to. The architecture of the building rose up and crested and formed a lee, a safe harbor against which to lean one's back.  
Jem sat with a hand fisted in his hair, elbow resting on his knee--he fit perfectly into the crevice formed where the flat planes of the roof intersected the waist-high moulding along the church's crown. "Did he now." It wasn't completely a statement, but it wasn't quite a question, either.   
Will made a face that suggested he was mulling something over rather carefully. "More or less."  
On a deep inhale, Jem asked, "Must I inquire specifically as to the nature of my presence in your conversation with Mr. Bane, or will you take the liberty of telling me yourself?" 

"Hard words," Will said tersely, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Jem smile, just the slightest bit. Good God.   
"Not as hard as knowing your dear friend spends his nights walking the streets between here and Whitechapel, playing the role of dissipated addict," he said mildly. Out of another's mouth it might have sounded aggressive or nihilistic, but from Jem--from Jem, it was nothing but his usual, clear-eyed honesty. To that, though, Will said nothing.   
"Now," Jem continued. "Do tell of exactly how I became the fodder of a warlock's conversations."  
"Let's just continue discourse on my vices and general odiousness as a person," Will said shortly.   
"Are you so determined to ensure that others despise you?"  
He grinned, halfheartedly. "Maybe I am."  
Jem sighed. "You're incorrigible," he announced quietly.   
"Please, Carstairs, continue stating things I already know. It does wonders for my health." 

"How, precisely, did I come up in conversation with the infamous Magnus Bane?" To Jem's credit, he did not ask the circumstances surrounding it, or the when and why of Will's dealings with Downworlders.   
"Well," Will drawled, "Shortly after we had an impromptu tryst in the carriage involving a lovely fae of rather questionable parentage, he said, 'My, that Carstairs fellow, I'd like to see him spread out across my sheets--"  
Jem gave Will a raised eyebrow as a response, and no more. "Interesting. I'm glad to know that I am thought of so fondly by our allies."  
"Indeed you are. You're going to have to start beating them off with that damned stick of yours."   
They lapsed into a companionable silence; again, Will was the one to break it. "Magnus--he'd asked--" He broke off. "Well, it was more like an interrogation than anything else, and a rather forceful one--" He looked to Jem as if he were expecting to be contradicted or cut off.   
"Well?" The corner of Jem's mouth quirked up into something vaguely resembling a half-smile.   
Will heaved a sigh. "He was all after me, to know why--" He swallowed. "He wanted to know what--what you wanted to know," he ended lamely.   
The only acknowledgement Jem gave was a slight increase in his head's degree of tilt.   
"Bloody evasive, I know," Will said, tone self-deprecating.   
"Are you just going to keep talking yourself in circles?" Jem asked wryly. "There's an expression, you know--when you're in a hole, stop digging."

Will snorted. "Maybe you should stop making intrusive comments long enough for me to get a whole thought out." He paused for a moment. "God, that sounded ridiculous--"  
"Agh, out with it," Jem said, slightly irate.   
"Basically--" Will drew out the vowel sounds, treating the syllables as if they were prisoners of war on a medieval torture rack.   
"Basically?" Jem asked insistently, prompting Will with an elbow to his side.   
Will exhaled on a sigh. "Magnus inquired--rather forcefully, might I say--"  
"Magnus?" There was an amused lilt to Jem's voice. "First name terms, now, are we?"  
Will grinned. "Didn't I mention our little roundez-vous in the stronghold of the enemy?" he asked, enjoying the change of expression on Jem's face. "Camille was just as shocked as you are--"  
"Get back to what you were saying," he demanded impatiently. "By the Angel, Will, you keep dodging the bullet."   
"More or less, Magnus--Mr. Bane, for your delicate sensibilities--" Here, Will snorted again, stifling the laughter in the back of his throat. "--was bending over backwards trying to figure out why, precisely, I present myself as loathsome swine of loose morals to every single person but you."  
"I hardly think--" A look from Will silenced his first thought. "And?"  
"I corrected him," Will said bluntly. "I made it quite clear that I do behave that way to you, and that I feed you the same fabrications I throw to every other, and somehow, by some unknown grace of God, you still care for me."   
"I don't quite understand," Jem said slowly. "All those things--these are all givens, Will, for not only parabatai, but as my closest friend. You need never fear that I might reject you or turn from you--"   
"No," Will interjected sharply. "You do misunderstand. He wanted to know why I allowed myself to care for you--to love you, and no other."   
Jem said nothing; slowly, as if moving through water, he turned his head, fixating his gaze on his knees.   
"I said that you were my one great sin." Will inspected his hands. He said it so matter of factly, too--that was the worst part of it all.   
"Is that what you really think?"  
"Would you really argue me on this, James? Really?" Both tone and glare were acerbic. "You are the only one I foist myself upon--the only one I force my nihilistic self on every hour of the day--" He gestured vaguely at the sky-- "or night--"  
"Will," Jem said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Parabatai. That is what we are--"  
"Parabatai extends to battle, and nothing more," Will muttered fiercely. "I latched on to you, like some sort of corrupted parasite--"  
"And I harnessed my dearest friend to a dying man." Jem's words were sharp; his hand tightened on Will's shoulder. "Do you not understand that we are, at least, equally guilty? By that same faulty logic--"  
"Bullshit," Will hissed. "I've dragged you down to my level, forced you to lie for me, made you come save me from some godforsaken opium den--"  
"Will," Jem murmured, voice sad. "Will, Will, Will.." He leaned nearer, trailing his other hand along Will's jaw, letting it come to rest just below his ear; his thumb gently stroked over Will's cheekbone.   
"That was when Jem leaned to kiss him, soft as hyssop or sweet wine. It wasn't aggressive or territorial or overtly sexual--it wasn't outright anything. He pulled away, just as quietly. "What am I going to do about you?" His eyes were sad, and he let them close as he neared again, this time allowing the touch to deepen.   
It felt bizarre, on one hand. It was nothing at all like kissing Tessa had ever been, but, on the other, it was nothing near what he imagined the concept of 'kissing Jem' to be. It was peculiar, and Will knew that, quite decidedly, just as well as he knew that doing now and thinking later was a bad combination--  
In the end, it was Will who pressed further into the kiss, demanding and insistent, fingers threading harshly into Jem's bright, tarnished hair. He lost track of time, too, caught in the flood of 'this is Jem, this is my brother, this is my parabatai, this is a man, this is wrong' to comprehend much more than simple sensation.   
"Will," Jem said again, quiet as a sinner in church. "Please," he murmured, "Do not regard yourself as--"  
Again, it was Will who leaned in , sealing their mouths once again, if only for a brief moment. After, he said nothing still, but allowed himself to lean, ever so slightly, on Jem's shoulder. Idly, he settled his head into the crook of Jem's neck.   
Jem turned his head, just slightly, to press his lips to Will's forehead. "Parabatai."  
"Parabatai," Will whispered.


End file.
